Resolute

Okay, I had started a post about the new year, resolutions, goals, blah blah blah.  But I quickly realized it was a lot of bullshit, and a lot of crap I've already talked about many times.  Making your dreams come true, that stuff.  So I deleted the whole thing.  2016 is going to be a year of brutal honesty, I think that's what I need more than anything else.  I can get on here and share anonymous banalities about my life, my marriage, whatever.  I can talk about my depression. I can continue to whine about why I can't seem to get my shit together.

At least a dozen times over the years I've tried to blog about the real issue, my BIGgest problem, my blackest shadow.  I try to put it into the right words.  Every time I've abandoned the posts, they are still sitting out there as drafts.  So with a new year, it's time to tackle it.  And it's nothing shocking, it's something that way too many people deal with, it's so common that it doesn't even really deserve a discussion.  But for me, I need to talk about it. Not to my husband, not to my friends, not to my mother.  Not even the repetitive conversations I have in my own head.  I just need to put it in black and white here.

I am overweight, and I have been as long as I can remember.  The older I get, the harder it is becoming to live with, the more issues it has caused.  I am at a breaking point right now.  I will be 50 this year.  I've spent my 20's, 30's, and 40's dealing with it.  I do not want to spend the second half of my life fighting this battle every day, it is wearing me down.  Killing me slowly.  Crushing my knees and back to the point I have days where I can barely walk from room to room. I don't want to turn this into a weight loss blog, but I need to spend more than one post on this.

It is critical for me at this point.  I've only ever managed to lose a significant amount of weight once in my life, and I couldn't even keep it off for a year.  And I didn't even get down to what would be considered a healthy weight.  I know that most of what I complain on here, is due to my weight.  My lack of energy, my aches and pains, and probably even my depression.  I know my weight hasn't caused my depression, but I understand that it doesn't help it, and it more than likely makes it "severe" on days when it could potentially only be "mild".  All the prescription medication I'm on, could be tossed out if only I lost weight.

Hours and days tick by.  Date book pages get flipped over.  And I do nothing.  I commit to nothing.  I weighed the same on December 31st of 2015, as I did on January 1st of 2015.  And January 1st of 2014.  What a fucking waste.  I have weighed myself every single day for about five years now, and tracked it on a calendar.  And I've saved those calendars.  I am not sure why.  It's torture, to keep around such a reminder of my failure.

You would never know it to see me on Facebook, I always look my best, I always pose, I always smile, I'm always dressed up.  But in private, I feel like a vile creature who could turn any admirers to stone when they see me.  And it's because of my weight.  I don't hate my hair or eyes or face or smile or whatever.  It's just the fat that surrounds all of it.  But that fat IS me.  It's all I ever see.  If I had to write one word to describe myself, it would be FAT.  I will say that here.  If anyone asked me in real life, I would say something stupid like ''happy" or "grateful" or what I think they would want to hear.

I would love to sit here and say I've tried everything.  I laugh to myself when people say that- I've tried to lose weight but I can't.  Well I'm here to tell you that's a load of utter crap.  If you are truly "trying" then that means you are "doing".  If you are "doing"- eating the right foods, exercising- then you are going to lose. 100% honesty here.  I talk a good game, but I am not trying.  That's as real as I can state it.  There is no action behind my words.  I know there is a mental barrier between our brains recognizing the need to lose weight, and our bodies actually getting up and doing something about it.  It's NOT easy.  It's the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with.  It is my greatest failure in life.  Unlike all my other issues, this one is with me from the time I wake up until I go to bed at night.  And even then, in the middle of the night, it is there- making it hard to get comfortable, giving me acid reflux, causing me to get too hot.  It's all my weight.  All of it.

I have fallen into this ridiculous cycle of overeating on the weekends and barely eating anything all week long.   I could throw up my hands and say "I don't know how to stop" but of course I know how to stop.  I will gain 3 pounds over the weekend, and lose 2 during the week.  But the excess keeps piling up.  I have weighed over 200 pounds for about twenty years now.  I have vowed to myself that this year- if I don't accomplish anything else- I am going to be a healthier version of myself before I enter my 50's.  And it's just not my life, it's J's too.  The more I indulge, so does he.  If I am the strong one, if I say "no" to the overeating, he will too.  On the other hand, if I keep going at this rate, he will either be forced to take care of me more than he already does, or he may end up a widower too early.  Yes, it really is at that point for me, at least that's how I feel.  That's how I need to think of it.  It's beyond just being the chubby girl.  Now I am a fat woman entering the last decades of my life.

So I need to talk about my weight for awhile I think.  If you don't want to read my blog, that's okay, I don't think anyone is reading it anyhow.  This blog is still therapy for me, not a social outlet to find friends.  And I need more than one or two posts to do this.  I have to.  More to come next week.  You can jump off this train now if you want to.  I won't even know it.

MISS GEE